Page 105 of Bonus Daddy
I found the girls sitting at the massive table, playing with glittery slime and giggling while Murphy demonstrated his newfound ability to floss.
“No,” T.J. corrected. “Like this. Arms and hips opposite.”
It would have been a heartwarming scene had I not been filled with rage.
“Greta, Kit, can I speak to you for a moment?”
Both girls looked up at me with wide smiles, though when they saw the tumbler in my hands, Kit’s eyes widened and Greta immediately looked away.
Once I’d marched them downstairs to Brian’s office, I gave them my best mom glare.
“Did you make a smoothie for Brian?”
Greta nodded. “He never eats lunch, but he sometimes comes upstairs to make a protein shake in the afternoons. So I thought I’d help and make it for him.”
She blinked rapidly, one of her tells.
“Why does this smell like pickles?”
She said nothing, just stared at me.
“I need an answer. Because while a chocolate shake can be enhanced by many ingredients, pickles are not one of them. And I know you know that.”
I stared at her in silence, waiting it out. Kit and I had endured some epic standoffs over the years, but I knew Greta would crumble.
After about three minutes of disappointed mom glare and silence, she did.
“It wasn’t just pickles. I added nutritional yeast. For Unami. I just wanted to see.”
My stomach sank. “But why?”
“To see if he would drink it. He’s drank all the other ones.”
“Other ones?” Dear God, had my third grader been slowly poisoning my boyfriend?
Ugh. Boyfriend? That sounded weird in my head.
Partner? Guy I was dating? Shit, this was weird at forty. Another thing to put on my endless to do list, appropriate vocabulary for whatever Brian and I were doing.
“I’ve made a bunch for him. Some are regular. And sometimes I add fruit, like a banana.” She looked at the floor, her feet shuffling. “But…”
“But what?” I barked.
“But then I got curious. He likes you so much, and he’s so super-duper nice to Kit and me. I just wanted to test him.”
I took a deep breath, swallowing back the urge to yell.
“Test him how?”
“At first I added a little hot sauce. I wanted to see if he liked you enough to drink it. And he did. He even pretended it was great. So then Kit said?—”
“Wait.” I held up a hand and spun toward my eldest daughter. “You were involved in this?”
She shrugged. “I never made anything. My hands are clean.”
Damn, she was crafty.
“But you knew about it.”
